Something Nice
by ea mck
Summary: Gregory has been working himself too hard and Christophe has had enough of it.


There was a quick rap at the door. Through the open blinds of Gregory's office he could see Christophe standing beside Rebecca's vacant reception desk and gestured him inside.

"Are you busy?" he asked, stepping into the room and promptly closing the door behind him.

Barely looking up from his computer, he replied dryly, "Yes. What do you need?"

Ignoring the question, Christophe leaned on one of the two leather armchairs in front of Gregory's desk and clicked his tongue. "You _do_ know everyone else has gone home, right?"

"Yes, Christophe, I am very aware. What do you need?" he repeated, glancing up from his computer screen. The irritation in his voice was as subtle as a knife.

"I guess it can wait a minute," he shrugged. "Find a stopping point." Gregory held his gaze a moment—almost defiantly—and searched for a motive in his bright eyes. He frowned but quickly went back to typing.

The brunet sauntered over to one of the large bookcases behind Gregory's desk. Many certificates and awards were displayed with collections of John Grisham books, as well as a few trinkets and framed pictures. One picture in particular was of a young Gregory kneeling beside a handsome, poised Doberman. While he resented these creatures (and was tiring of Gregory's attempts to make him overcome his malevolence) Christophe had always been rather fond of this photograph. It was one of the few pictures in which he was smiling candid and unreserved; so unlike the ones of him at company events or in the newspapers.

With a slight smile he moved on to the adjacent bookshelf which was stuffed and packed tight with even more books: encyclopedias, legal dictionaries, college law textbooks. He thumbed over the wide spine of a corporate law text before pulling it out from it's place on the shelf to flip through the pages. Many sentences—and often whole paragraphs—were highlighted in an assortment of colors. Notes written on Post-its in scrawl so atrocious it could give a doctor a run for his money were scattered throughout the tome as well.

The room was mostly silent as Christophe tried to decipher the legal jargon of the book, all except for the sound of Gregory's fingers dancing over the pads of his keyboard. He was entirely fixated on his work, and when Christophe quickly noticed the man wasn't planning on stopping willfully, he moved to the blond's back to card his hands through soft gold hair. He kneaded his knuckles gently into Gregory's neck and shoulders, occasionally slipping his palms over Gregory's chest before moving to his shoulder blades once again, digging his knuckles into the crease of his spine. Gregory halted his typing for a moment to take a deep breath and Christophe just _knew_ those brown eyes were slipping closed. Though he went back to writing, his head tilted and his shoulders rolled to direct Christophe where he should apply more pressure—as if Christophe couldn't feel the tension in his muscles.

This time, Gregory saved his work and leaned all the way back in his chair, his head falling against the headrest of his chair so he could look up at the brunet. "Okay," he grunted, "what do you need?" Gregory was, to be frank, annoyed, but Christophe smiled down at him regardless, simply happy the bastard was giving in for once in so long.

"I think," Christophe started, twirling a lock of gold hair around one of his fingers, "it's more what _you_ need." Gregory rolled his eyes and leaned forward to return to his work, but Christophe forced him back. "How about a break?" he asked, leaning down closer, his lips hovering beside Gregory's temple. He—of course—tried to refuse, making up an excuse. "Just twenty minutes," Christophe pressed. Then he added, whispering seductively in Gregory's ear," I'll show you something nice."

The man thought for a moment. "_Just_ twenty minutes," he finally agreed. "Then I have to get back to—"

"I know, I know, the fucking Tenorman case. Don't act like I'm not doing most of your research." Christophe quipped, walking over to the bar to pour them both a generous glass of whiskey. He passed one to Gregory and sat on the edge of the desk, watching the blond with a devious glint in his eye. "But, I _really_ don't want to have this argument with you again." He changed the conversation and they chatted lightly while they drank, their knees brushing now and then; Christophe was sure to keep the subject away from work.

Gregory, however, was clearly keeping an eye on the clock.

It was Christophe's turn to roll his eyes and he set his glass down on a pile of papers, then did the same with Gregory's. Before the blond could start asking questions, Christophe reached for his hand and pulled him up from his chair, bringing their lips together.

Gregory moaned into the kiss and Christophe's tongue slid over his lip, his hands falling to the Frenchman's hips. Teeth sunk mercilessly into his bottom lip and he half gasped,half moaned in shocked pleasure. Christophe took the opportunity to delve his tongue into his lover's mouth and attack with abandon, earning another encouraging whine from the lawyer.

When they broke away, their lips were only inches apart and they struggled to find breath. "You've been working yourself too hard, _salope_," Christophe growled. The blond's leg had slid its way up Christophe's leg, his knee resting on the edge of the desk to better rut their hips together. The brunet could feel the heat of arousal growing in both his and Gregory's groins and he grinned, biting his lip.

"Is this what you call something nice?" Gregory laughed as the brunet nipped a sensitive spot behind his ear; heat surged through his body and settled in his belly. His hands roamed over Christophe's shoulders and down his clothed torso, wishing the Frenchman's shirt wasn't tucked in so he may dip his hands underneath the fabric to feel that sculpted body hidden beneath. Christophe shuddered when skilled hands instead slid over his neck and threaded in his hair.

Rather than replying, Christophe cupped the growing bulge in Gregory's pants. Without warning he grasped the man's shoulders and pushed him back into the chair, settling on the floor between Gregory's spread legs, and the blond sighed happily when an enthusiastic hand rubbed over his confined arousal. Soon, Christophe's hand was replace by his mouth.

Zealous, Christophe mouthed him over his clothes and stroked Gregory's thighs. Gregory himself was fiddling with his trousers to unbutton them. Christophe shooed him away and unfastened them himself and easily slid both the trousers and underwear down enough to reveal some of the blond's swollen cock. He untucked the white designer, perfectly fitted button up and pushed it above Gregory's navel, placing butterfly kisses along the newly exposed flesh. There was the faintest hint of Ralph Lauren cologne (Christophe's favorite for that matter—how fortunate) on the fabric that made Christophe's body pulse with desire.

The brunet smiled and kissed his lover's hip before pulling the rest of his binds away. Gregory hissed as a tongue flicked over his head then trailed the length of the underside of his cock from root to tip. He squirmed and whined at the teasing, his fingers tangling into dark hair. Christophe took him partly into his mouth and looked up through his lashes to see Gregory squeeze his eyes shut and moan his name, followed by a slew of God-damning obscenities. Grinning, he laced his own fingers through curly gold hair at base then took him whole in his mouth, earning yet another gasp of appreciation and a harsh tug of his hair.

It wasn't long until Gregory jerked his hands away and cursed. "It's Kyle," he hissed, tearing his hands away from Christophe's hair. Christophe frowned when Gregory forced him away, pushing him down below the desk to hide his objectionable state; Christophe fitted perfectly underneath, safely hidden behind the solid mahogany and settled for massaging Gregory's thighs, only his hot breath caressing the blond's strained erection.

There was a knock at the door and—after a steeling breath—Gregory called for him to enter.

"I see you're still here," Kyle laughed, stepping in the doorway.

"Just finishing up." He resisted writhing in his chair. Christophe may have had the decency to not suck him while he was speaking to his superior, but not, apparently, to stop stroking him.

The redhead didn't seem to notice. "I was just on my way out. I don't suppose you'd want to grab a drink?" he offered. "Maybe get you a date."

Gregory cracked a smile, sensing a bit of irony, and said, "I don't think so. I still have a lot of work to do for the Tenorman case. Maybe some other time."

"Alright, fair enough. You have a good weekend then." He turned to leave but wheeled back around to add, "And try to get some rest or something. You look sick."

Christophe heard the door close again and pushed Gregory's chair out to crawl away from the desk. "Is _sick_ how I would describe that expression?" he grinned.

"_Shut up_," he barked. Christophe stretched up, wanting to suck at the blond's neck, but was pushed back down to the floor. He waited until Kyle disappeared around the corner for the elevators before allowing the brunet to drag his tongue over his neck and suck at his earlobe. Gregory, in turn, tugged at his hair. "Get back to it."

Happy to oblige, Christophe sunk to his knees and wrapped his lips back around Gregory's throbbing head. He took him completely into his mouth until he felt a brush at his throat, then was gone, pacing butterfly kisses along prominent hipbones. The brunet pumped his partner several times, the pad of his thumb sliding over Gregory's leaking head to spread the pearlescent fluid with every twist of his wrist. Then, his hand was replaced with his tongue and Gregory began to buck into Christophe's mouth. Gregory buried his fingers in Christophe's hair once again, forcing the brunet to keep his mouth around his cock so he could thrust up with added ferocity. Not that Christophe wanted to be anywhere else.

The attorney was panting and moaning unabashedly, breathing the Frenchman's name and mumbling nonsense. Christophe could feel the other man pulse and his nails trailed over Gregory's waist, leaving burning red lines in their path, then cupped the blond's arse.

Once Gregory began to thrust wildly into Christophe's warm mouth, he knew the blond was close. He happily swallowed Gregory into his throat, curly hair tickling his nose. This time, when he pulled away, he allowed his teeth to scraped ever so slightly over Gregory's sensitive member. His entire body tensed and shuddered as he came into Christophe's mouth with a cry of much needed completion.

Christophe gladly swallowed him down and sucked him dry—wouldn't want to dirty his Armani—and reveled in the masculine taste. He continued his ministrations until the organ grew soft and waited until Gregory was completely spent to pull him down by his tie for a kiss. It started soft and sweet but quickly escalated to something intense and purposeful.

"Oh fuck, Christophe," Gregory sighed happily while the brunet tucked him back into his trousers and refastened the zipper and button. Christophe rubbed his knuckles soothingly into Gregory's thighs, remaining on his knees.

"Can we go home now?" the brunet asked with the slightest tone of mockery.

Gregory laughed and ran a lethargic hand through his hair, trying to gather himself again. "Yes, Christophe, we can go home."

* * *

**Author's Note:** There was something I was supposed to be doing and I'm almost positive this wasn't it. But, office blowjobs because I said so.


End file.
